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had to knock three times before he heard someone stir within and come to open the door. An old man who looked to be about ninety leaned on a walking stick and peered out at him.
    "May I come in?" Nick asked, shaking the rain from his cloak.
    The old man looked at him blankly and said, "Wipe yer feet."
    Nicholas did as he was bidden and when the old man didn't offer him a chair, he hid an amused smile at the lack of hospitality. "I'm sorry to bring bad news, but his lordship died yesterday." A silence stretched out. He wondered if the old gaffer was stone deaf, but after a moment he replied.
    "Never liked 'im anyway."
    Nicholas was startled. Perhaps he had the wrong man after all. "Is your name Higgins?"
    "Who wants to know?" the old fellow challenged.
    The irony wasn't lost on Nick. He smiled and bit his lip. "Look here, my father wanted you to have some money, but you're making it bloody difficult for me."
    Without further ado the old man held out his hand.
    Nicholas took out his wallet and counted two hundred pounds into the old codger's hand. Then on a generous impulse he added another fifty. The silence stretched out again until Nick bade him goodbye and donned his cloak against the downpour.
    As he closed the cottage door, a corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. "Well, Harry, I did what you asked, but got neither thanks nor bugger you!"
    Inside the stables, he walked down past the familiar row of stalls and lifted a horse blanket from the wall. He saddled up a fresh mount, taking care not to pick one of his favorite horses in case he decided to sell it, later.
    Philip, who had been hiding in a stall, crept out, his face a study in misery. "Nicko, I'm sorry. I tried to tell you my mother was a bitch, but you would never hear a wrong word about her."
    "Ironic, isn't it?"
    "You can't go empty-handed, Nicko. I want you to have these." He held out two ornamental peacocks of Oriental design. They were solid gold.
    Nick stiffened, offended to be offered his father's treasures.
    "If you don't take them, it will be like spitting in my face," Philip said passionately.
    "In that case, I shall take them. You chose a most apt symbol, Philip." He hugged the boy to him. "I shall leave Tess in your loving care," he said lightly.
    "What would she want with me?" Philip scoffed.
    "Believe me," he assured him with a wink, "she'll be delighted to belong to young Lord Peacock."
    He turned up the collar of his cloak and urged the animal out into the downpour. The low-hanging clouds mad him realize the weather had set in for the day, and already the afternoon light was deserting. Nicholas lifted his dark head to gaze one last time upon the home he had always loved. The carved granite faces that adorned the main portals were awash with rivulets of water, making even the gargoyles appear to be weeping at his dismissal.
     
     
     
    Chapter Two
     
    In London, Nicholas found lodging at an inn in an unfashionable part of the city. He could have stayed with any of a dozen friends or even at his father's club, but deep down inside he knew that anytime anyone gave you free anything , a piece of your pride was eaten away. Though his plans were vague and unformed, he was sure of one thing: From now on he would have to stand on his own feet.
    He rode about the city, thinking, forming a plan, and deciding his future. As November's cold dampness seeped into his bones, he remembered his tailor on Bond Street was fashioning a new greatcoat for him. He entered the establishment known as Henley's and as usual the obsequious owner came forward to do his bidding.
    "Your lordship, please accept our heartfelt condolences at the loss of your father. We hope that your new title won't prevent you from still doing business with our humble establishment."
    "Thank you, but I'm afraid it's my brother who is now Lord Peacock, not I. I came to see if my greatcoat was ready, the one with the shoulder capes? Oh, and I wonder if you could affix a black mourning band to the